Always The Exception
by FontOfPointlessKnowledge
Summary: John is acting strangely and Sherlock doesn't know why. Established JohnLock slash from the begining :P
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything; if I did I wouldn't be sat around writing this... ;) **

**Warning: Established Johnlock, lots of fluff. Don't like don't read **

Chapter 1:

It began like any other evening at 221b. Sherlock transfixed by one of his latest experiments that lay under his microscope, and John sat in his arm chair reading his book for what must have been the fifth time, Sherlock had pointed out as he had picked it up. Although he wasn't really reading it, if he was then he wouldn't have been reading the same page for the last half an hour.  
"Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering Chinese." John called to the kitchen where his lover was working.  
"Mmmhm" came the incoherent reply, John knew that there was not much point in asking Sherlock anything while he was doing an experiment, but he couldn't remember the last time he had seen his boyfriend eat, and he was looking paler than usual.  
"I'm getting you some anyway, and you are GOING to eat it." John heard a very faint chuckle from the kitchen as he rang the take out place down the road.

He could have just let them deliver it, but he needed to get out of the flat in order to rearrange his thought so that he didn't give anything away. Of course it is technically impossible to hide anything from your partner, the world's only consulting detective, but he had to stop it being obvious. All of his emotions were in hyper drive, excited, nervous, happy, and terrified. _If I feel anything else I might explode_, John thought to himself as he went to get his coat.  
"I'm going to pick up the food, won't be long." John called. No answer but he knew Sherlock heard him. Out on the street, John breathed a sigh of relief that Sherlock didn't seem to have noticed his odd behaviour owing to the fact that whatever was under his microscope was much more interesting than the outside world.

Meanwhile, back in the flat, Sherlock rose from his position at the microscope and bounded his way to the window that overlooks the street and watches John walk slowly towards the take out. He notes that this is unusual as John still has the old brisk army pace that was instilled in him years before. He is stalling for time, Sherlock concludes, but why? As he makes his way over to the armchair that his partner previously occupied, he confirms his suspicions about Johns' book. He hadn't turned a page in at least twenty minutes, he thought Sherlock hadn't noticed. _But of course I had_, he thought to himself_, I notice everything_.  
Sherlock allows himself a moment of self admiration before knitting his brow in concentration at the problem in hand. What was different about today that had John so on edge? No matter how much he racked his not so inconsiderable brain, he could think of nothing. Clearly this required further investigation, the form of which presented itself sooner than expected as Sherlock heard John return with the food. Quickly, Sherlock repositioned himself at his microscope and pretended to be engrossed in it once again.

John shrugged off his coat and shoes in the hallway and began to make his way upstairs. As he reached the landing, he noted only the small sound of pencil on paper and the slight shift of a chair on the floor as Sherlock made himself more comfortable. He almost let out a nervous giggle of relief that his lover hadn't seemed to notice anything amiss. Rounding the corner into the kitchen he set the bag down on the only available space on the table that wasn't occupied by various papers, books, or assorted chemicals, and begun hunting for some plates that weren't covered in hazardous substances.  
After around five minutes of searching gingerly amongst the half completed experiments, John found probably the only two clean plates in the apartment but washes them anyway, just in case, and began emptying the plastic containers of their contents. Two plates in hand, he made his way past Sherlock into the living room where he settled himself on the sofa and turned on the telly. "Sherlock, come in here and eat your dinner. " John chuckled to himself at the passing though that he probably sounded like his mother. There was a brief sigh as Sherlock detached himself from his experiment and slunk over, planting himself next to John on the sofa and began to pick at his food.

They ate in companionable silence while the TV droned on in the background. Involuntarily, Johns' mind began to race once again. Almost as if Sherlock's' presence had reawakened his anxiety. _Come on Watson_, John silently reprimanded himself, _you were in Afghanistan, this should be a walk in the park._ With that he set his food down for fear of accidentally throwing it on the floor.  
Sherlock had noticed Johns' unusual behaviour as soon as he sat down but had elected to observe and gather data, rather than face the issue head on. John had told him once that he should first try to understand what was wrong with someone instead of just asking them, that it was the more considerate thing to do. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, but this was John, he was always the exception.

When his partner set down his plate, Sherlock knew that whatever was bothering him must be getting worse so he decided to try to help. Carefully he put his plate on the coffee table next to Johns and turned to his lover. "John, is there something bothering you?" Sherlock inquired innocently. As he looked into his Hazel eyes he saw the emotions swirling around in a whirlpool of confusion.  
"You can tell me you know" he continued reassuringly

This was almost the last straw for John, he could feel his self control melting away under the gaze of those silver orbs. But he had to do it. It was the one thing that he had been most sure of in his entire life, but it was also the most difficult. Not thinking that he could withstand Sherlock's gaze any longer, he stood quickly saying " I'm scared, Sherlock. " as he began pacing the room before coming to a halt and staring out the window.  
Now Sherlock was completely confused, but he knew that he had to comfort his lover, get him to open up and share his feelings. He strode across the room to where John now stood, snaking his arms around Johns waist. He felt the slight flinch at the touch, before John relaxed into his arms. "What are you scared of. "He asked softly. John turned slightly so that he could see Sherlock's face "Of losing you. "He said in a whisper. With that Sherlock turned him so that they were face to face, enfolding John in his long arms, nuzzling his face into the sandy coloured hair. "You will never lose me John, I'm not going anywhere." Sherlock pulled back so that he could see into his boyfriend's eyes and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "I know that really, it's silly of me to worry," John paused collecting his thoughts "I love you Sherlock, so much that the thought of losing you physically hurts. You are the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with. "  
" I love you too John, you know that. I will stay by your side for as long as you'll have me. "Sherlock said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

Oh how John loved it when Sherlock smiled, especially like this. So honest and warm, he never really showed his feelings so it was moments like this that he would always treasure. _Come on,_ John thought to him, _just do it you coward!__  
_"Sherlock," he began pulling out of the embrace slightly so he had room to move "I will always have you, until the end of my days. I have wanted you by my side since the day we met and you turned my whole life upside-down " John chuckled slightly " You are the most beautiful, brilliant and perfect human being I have ever met, and I can't believe how lucky I am that you are in my life "  
Sherlock watched as John stood back slightly, the look of absolute joy covering his face. He could hardly believe that anyone could love him like this, but it wasn't just anyone. It was John, his John. The man who had stood by him as his friend and now lover for almost two years now.

"There is no one else in the world that I would rather be with." Taking Sherlock's hand is his, John fumbles in his pocket for a moment before sinking down on one knee. "Sherlock Holmes, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life. So there's only one more thing I have to say," raising his other hand, John reveals a simple silver band between his thumb and first finger," Sherlock, Will you marry me? "


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: A stifling amount of fluff/relationship stuff in this one :D**

**Disclaimer: Don't own any of it... Blah blah blah... **

Chapter 2:

As John spoke, Sherlock watched as his features relaxed into pure, unrelenting happiness. He knew that it didn't take a genius to know that every word of it was true. He could hardly believe what was happening before his very eyes. "John... I... "He paused attempting to form words "...Yes!... Yes John, of course I will! "  
John straightened, swiftly pulling the detective into a tight embrace. He couldn't contain a small laugh that escaped his lips with the relief. Pulling back to admire his new fiancé, who somehow managed to look even more attractive. Eyes never leaving Sherlock's face, John brought his lovers hand up to meet his, sliding the ring onto his slender finger.  
Sherlock bent his head so that his forehead met with Johns, gazing into the eyes of his lover, he had never felt anywhere near this level of happiness in his entire life. And it was all because of the man that stood before him, his friend, blogger, doctor and now fiancé. "I love you so much." he said choking back the tears that had welled up in his eyes.

The doctor kissed away the single tear that had trickled from the bright silver eyes of his lover. "I love too, now more than ever." Breathing in Sherlock's scent he raised his head slightly so that their lips touched so softly that they were barely touching, but neither wanted to deepen it.  
Sherlock's mind was frozen, nothing else in the world mattered right now except for this, the moment that he wished he could stay in forever, held tightly in the strong arms of his blogger. Reluctantly he pulled away from Johns soft lips for air, taking in every detail of the perfect features on his face that made up the most exquisite expression he had ever seen.

"I think the foods gone cold." John said with smirk, Sherlock chuckled a little "I wasn't hungry anyway, but you insisted" smirking back he captured his lips in a sweet, yet passionate kiss, using his height to push down slightly on the smaller man.  
Johns hands wound their way around Sherlock's back, fingers entangling themselves in the dark curls, while his tongue began mapping out the inside of Sherlock's mouth. Pulling back slightly, he lightly grazed his teeth on Sherlock's lower lip making his partner gasp slightly.  
When John finally pulled away, he made note of how his lovers' eyes glistened with lust, while his beautiful lips were reddened and puffy from where he had been ravishing him. "Bed?" Sherlock nearly growled the word raising his eyebrow suggestively as he did so. The gruff tone went straight to John's groin, so he allowed himself to be lead by the hand towards the bedroom, eyes never wavering from his slender lover.

-

Sun streamed through the large window at the opposite side of the room. John stirred a little in his sleep before blearily opening his eyes, shielding them against the light. He silently cursed himself for not closing the curtains last night, but he smiled at the memories of his more pressing engagement at the time.  
Suddenly, he became aware of the long slender limbs in which he was cocooned, He could feel the warmth radiating off the bare chest of his boyfriend. No wait, his fiancé. John mulled the word over in his mind, He was happy that he could finally us it. The decision to propose had not come to him over night after all, but it had been most definitely worth the wait.  
Cautiously, so as not to wake Sherlock, he moved so that he could see his sleeping face. He noted how relaxed Sherlock's expression was, a world of difference from his usual blur of furrowed brows and thoughtful looks that usually graced his marble features.

John wondered how many other people had seen Sherlock in such an utterly peaceful state.  
A single ebony curl had fallen across his forehead, making his brow twitch slightly. Fighting back a chuckle, John carefully brushed it behind Sherlock's ear, causing his eyes to flutter into awakening.  
As soon as his eyes adjusted to the new light, Sherlock's gaze fell on his lover. A warm smile spread across his sleep slackened features at the sight of the sleep ruffled hair and bleary eyes of the shorter man at his chest.  
" Good morning "he said huskily pulling the doctor up to his height so that he could plant a soft kiss on his forehead.  
" Morning my love "John replied running his hand lightly along Sherlock's strong jaw line before kissing him tenderly.

As they parted, John glanced at the clock, 10:45.  
"We should probably get up soon. "He said reluctantly. "It's nearly 11:00, I feel like I've wasted half the day already."  
"This," Sherlock said gesturing over them" isn't a waste, unless you don't want to stay here with Me." finishing the sentence with a slightly suggestive smirk. " You know what I meant, " John said with a playful shove " We should at least have breakfast "  
" You're cooking then " said Sherlock as he kissed John quickly on the lips before leaping out of bed, taking the sheet with him wearing it like a toga.

A small shiver flowed over Johns now exposed body, however the element of surprise soon left him as he donned his favourite old jumper and baggy jeans. As he padded wearily down stairs, he chuckled at the sight of Sherlock sprawled out on the couch. "I was thinking pancakes?" he said from the kitchen. No reply. "Well in that case I'm making them anyway "he replied to himself.  
John hunted around the kitchen for the necessary ingredients, which were thankfully hazard free (mostly), and began mixing the batter. Unbeknown to him, Sherlock had silently slunk up behind his lover while he was preoccupied with breakfast and was now hovering closely behind him. Releasing the sheet so that it hung loosely around his hips, Sherlock threaded his arms around the shorter man, running his hands across the soft material of his jumper. The doctor nearly jumped out of his skin, accidentally spraying flour everywhere in surprise. He turned quickly with the intent of shouting at his fiancé for scaring the living daylights out of him, but the anger quickly subsided into giggles when he saw what had happened.

Sherlock stood with a distinctly unimpressed expression on his face, along with a considerable amount of flour which had also settled on his shoulders and in his hair.  
With a face of stone, he reached around John, who now had to cling to the worktop to remain standing, collected some flour of his own and threw it at the other man, jumping back for cover as he did so in anticipation of retaliation. John shook his head, sending a White cloud into the air before running his hands through his hair in an attempt to remove some flour, making his previously sandy coloured strands stick up at odd angles. From behind his hastily taken cover, Sherlock couldn't help himself as he let out a low chuckle, which soon developed into full blown laughter.

Flour continued to fly until the entire kitchen looked as though it had been dusted with snow. As they threw themselves down onto the sofa, resulting in a large White cloud erupting into the air, Mrs Hudson appeared at the door with a concerned look on her face. "I heard such a commotion, I thought there was something wrong. "She paused, surveying the chaos of 221B "What have you two been up too?"  
John stood quickly, attempting to shield the worst from view " Nothing untoward, don't you worry. " he said reassuringly " We'll clean it up. " he added quickly, seeing the downhearted expression on the landladies face. "I should hope so too, "she said sternly" I'm not your housekeeper."  
" Not to worry Mrs Hudson, we were merely celebrating. "Sherlock said calmly as he stood to join John, taking his hand." I wasn't aware we were telling everyone yet "John said in a low tone, throwing a surprised look at his partner." Come now John, she is our landlady, and dear friend. Are you ashamed of me? "

If there was any hint of hurt in Sherlock's voice, it was untrue. He just liked making John uncomfortable. Remaining quite calm, for he refused to give Sherlock the satisfaction, he threaded his arm around his lovers slender waste, " Of course not, " he said with a warm smile, planting a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. The old woman shifted uncomfortably as if she were intruding on something private, "If you boys want some time together, I'll just get out of your hair. " she said kindly, turning to leave. "Mrs Hudson, wait one moment please, John and I have something to tell you." Said Sherlock glancing at John.  
"Oh dear, what have you done this time. Honestly you have me worried sick." She said a look of concern on her face." No, no. It's nothing like that," John said with a chuckle." its good news for once." he paused, composing himself " Sherlock and I" he began "we are going to get married." A smile spreading across his features as he spoke, lifting their entwined fingers to exhibit the ring on his fiancé's finger.

**Sorry for the horrendously long wait between chapters :/ **

**But anyway, Thanks for reading what there is so far! Reviews much appreciated if you could spare the time **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything of significance :/ **

Chapter 3:

"Oh boys! That's wonderful! "Mrs Hudson said, bringing them into a congratulatory embrace. Both men returned the hug before stepping back to allow the landlady to collect herself. Dabbing away the Joyful tears that were sliding down he face, she spoke in a tone so choked with emotion that it was hardly audible "I'm so happy for you both. When did this happen? "  
" Only yesterday actually, "John replied with a broad smile "I have to admit, I was terrified that you were going to say no." As he said the last words his eyes diverted to the floor ashamedly. Sherlock gently cupped his partners chin, tilting his head to meet his gaze. "How could I say no to you John? I love you. "He said simply, lowering his head for a brief but loving kiss." And I love you. "The doctor replied, leaning into his lover slightly so that his head was nestled into the crook of Sherlock's slender neck. Mrs Hudson was beyond words, she looked between the two with joy running down her face. Returning her gaze, Sherlock smiled warmly "Mrs Hudson would you like some tea? I think you need something to calm you down. "

The three sat in the slightly flour covered flat sipping their tea and chatting aimlessly for at least an hour. Sherlock wouldn't have usually sat through this, which in his mind was usually immensely tedious endeavour, however he was too joyful to care. Once all was put to rights and the landlady had gone back downstairs the men were left sitting comfortably on the sofa, Sherlock's head on his lovers lap, while John absently smoothed his hair between his fingers. Raising himself from his previous position Sherlock announced "We need to go to the yard."  
"What, now? What for? "John replied, slightly angered but curious." Lestrade. He text me earlier but we were otherwise engaged with breakfast. "A small smirk flitting across the marble features." Fine." John said at last, "But we defiantly need to get cleaned up first. "Gesturing to the flour that had dusted them both. " Well obviously John, you didn't expect me to go out like this did you? " he said playfully " I'm going for a shower, coming? " cocking eyebrow before calmly exiting the room, letting the sheet slide to the floor as he went. Frozen for a moment, mesmerised by his lover, John shook himself and set off bristly after the slender detective.

Climbing out of the cab, Sherlock turned his collar up against the bitter London air as he strode up the small flight of steps to Scotland Yard. His companion only caught up as he opened the large glass door and strolled through reception, the woman behind the desk gave an inquisitive glance before re-engaging in the work she was doing previously.  
Lestrade was, as ever, awaiting their arrival in his office. "This had better be something interesting for once." the consulting detective remarked as he entered, causing the DI to start a little. "Well that all depends on your perspective doesn't it, we haven't found anything at the moment," he paused ignoring the scoff issued from the other man "Double homicide. Mother and son, found dead on the couch with the telly on." He looked across the room to gauge Sherlock's reaction, "No sign of a struggle, cause of death in both cases appears to be a blow to the back of the head with a blunt object." Sherlock rolled his eyes as the inspector completed his sentence "Alright, it's not great to say the least, but if it's the best you've got." the DI huffed "Well I apologise that people aren't dying in more interesting ways. "He paused catching the two men exchange a small but passionate glance. "You two seem far too content, is there something I should know about?"  
"How very astute of you Lestrade, you truly are one of the best Scotland yard has to offer." Said the detective in an overly sarcastic tone. John shot him a look, 'bit not good'. "Alright, alright. No need to get snarky." Lestrade replied raising his hands in mock surrender. A smirk crossed Sherlock's features, "John and I are engaged." he said simply, subconsciously looping his arm around his partner's waist.

The DI nearly fell off his office chair, eyes wide in surprise grappling at the desk to stop himself falling. "Jesus Christ! Really, that's brilliant. I'm so pleased for you both. "John couldn't stop himself chuckling slightly at his friends' reaction, "Thanks Greg and it is brilliant."  
Clearly getting bored of the exchange Sherlock steered the conversation back to the case. "Who's on the scene?" he asked impatiently. "Oh, erm... Anderson I think. "Replied the still slightly shell shocked inspector." Oh good, well better get down there before he completely destroys all the evidence with his blundering about. "The detective turned to leave, threading his fingers into Johns, making their way to the road to hail a cab.

As the cab pulled up, the familiar scene of police tape and squad cars awaited them. Sherlock paid the cabby and gracefully exited the car pausing for a moment to allow his partner to climb out of the cab before closing the door. John could see the glint in the detectives' eye that only came from a case or a particularly interesting experiment. Suddenly it was overcast slightly by a look of distain as he spotted Sergeant Donovan approaching. "Ah, freak," she spat, glaring at Sherlock "and his faithful companion. Still hanging around with this psychopath then? "The question was directed at John who was now fighting the urge to retaliate." Yes. "He said sharply, he couldn't bear to see someone so ignorant insult Sherlock in such a spiteful way." But that's none of your business now is it _Sergeant_ Donovan. "He retorted, squaring his shoulders and stepping slightly in front of the taller man defensively." Alright doctor, keep your hair on. I was only asking. "  
" Well next time, just don't. I would appreciate it if you kept your nose out of my business. "With that he strode away, pulling Sherlock along behind him. As they entered the house Sherlock spoke, "You didn't have to do that John. "He stopped, causing the other man to turn around. "I am perfectly capable of handling Donovan on my own. "He wasn't angry, but confused. "I know you probably had it under control, but it just really gets on my nerves how she treats you... As if you are some sort of freak show... "John trailed off, anger and embarrassment flitting through his eyes. Sherlock pulled him into a tight embrace as if to reassure the doctor. Pulling back he plants a kiss on Johns upturned forehead and says softly, "Thank you," he paused as if not sure how to proceed, "...for defending me. I guess I'm just not used to there being someone there to do that. "  
"Well I'm always going to be there from now on, as much as humanly possible." Sherlock smiled at that notion, dipping his head for a short kiss.

At that moment, through the threshold to the living room, Anderson sauntered out, nose wrinkling in distaste at the display if affection. "Oh god! Just what I wanted to see. The freak and his pet sucking each other's faces! "His face formed a wicked smirk as John turned towards him with a face like thunder." Right, I have had just about enough of your spiteful comments for one lifetime Anderson and if you say one more word against Sherlock, I won't be held responsible for my actions. "His voice was seething with anger and even though he had not raised his voice, Anderson stood taken aback for a moment before regaining his previous snarky demeanour." Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. What's wrong sherly, can't you speak for yourself for once. "Knowing he had hit a nerve, his self congratulatory smirk grew even wider." I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself; however I was not one to deny John a retaliation of his own. "He spoke calmly and evenly, causing the Cheshire cat grin to faultier slightly.  
Changing tack, Anderson directed his next comment at John. "It is completely beyond me how you have put up with him for so long, how is it even possible to have a relationship with someone like... Him. "He said, gesturing to the consulting detective to emphasise the last words.  
" _He_ is twice... No three times the man you will ever be. He is more brilliant and unique than you could dream of being, and I love him. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life showing just how much I care about this beautiful man. "John took a single, purposeful stride so that he the other man was forced to step back up to the wall." There are a million reasons why I should punch you right now, but I'm not going to. I refuse to sink to your level. You are the vilest, loathsome and hugely ignorant little man I have ever had the misfortune to meet and I hope that we never have to cross paths again. "Turning swiftly he reached for Sherlock and started towards the front door.  
Having regained his composure slightly from the verbal abuse he had just suffered, the forensic scientist called after them, " You'll be back, " John slowed slightly but did not stop. " and even if you're not, he will be. " the doctor halted abruptly, staring towards the open door. "He can't stand to stay away too long... He gets off on it too much. "  
The last shred of patience was stripped from him as John spun sharply back to Anderson. He stalked back down the corridor, glaring at the large grin adorning the other mans features, and without warning swung his already closed fist squarely at his nose

**Thank you guys for reading Hoping you liked it :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**I humbly apologise for the horrendous wait for this one, I'm putting it down to severe writers block and two weeks in Spain without internet access. It's a little shorter than usual but I'm hoping the sheer amount of fluff will make up for it :D **

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything :/ **

Chapter 4:

In seconds Sherlock was pulling John away from the now bloodied forensics officer with a suspected broken nose. They piled into a cab and sat panting in the back while the adrenaline subsided. Now that the initial shock had drained from his system, John feels a dull throbbing building up in his knuckles as he reaches subconsciously to assess the damage, wincing slightly at the contact. "That bastard had a bloody solid nose." a small chuckle escaping as he spoke, turning to face Sherlock. A grin spreads across the detectives features "It's your fault for punching his thick Neanderthal skull... But he had it coming." he reached across the seat to his partners now slightly swollen hand, ghosting his finger tips across the knuckles.  
"I'm sorry that you didn't get to check out the scene though love." John said looking apologetically at the detective. "Quite alright John, I managed to get a good enough look around while you were abusing Anderson." he said lightly, a playful smirk adorning his lips. "In fact, the case proved to be rather more transparent than I had hoped." the undertone of irritation was subtle but evident, passing quickly at the sight of the doctor's bewildered expression. "You... How did you even..." Johns mouth opened then closed again as he knitted his eyebrows in utter confusion and amazement. "You think you know how they were killed then?" he said finally, accepting the fact that he could never begin to understand how the young genius had worked it out. "I don't _think _that I know, I'm almost certain." Sherlock said in his 'don't be dull' voice. John felt a sudden rush of admiration towards his brilliant and completely unfathomable partner, in one swift motion he cupped the younger man's face and kissed him deeply. The detective was startled, to say the least, but soon melted into the touch of his fiancé. "You are amazing..." John whispered against his perfect lips, "...just brilliant." Cradling the younger man's face in his hands he gazed into the stormy grey eyes that still held the spark of the game, "And you're mine." he said softly, capturing his lips once more, but this time with less urgency.

Almost as soon as they parted, Sherlock began reeling off his numerous deductions that had led him to the, 'obvious' as he had put it, conclusion. Occasionally being interrupted by spontaneous declarations of 'amazing' or 'fantastic'. After which the detective would pause, casting a brief affectionate glance at his partner before launching back into the explanation of his brilliance and how the police were even more inept that he had previously thought.  
Once John was sure that the detective had finished his somewhat lengthy explanation, he allowed himself a moment for the new information to sink in and to suppress his astonishment a little before he finally spoke. "That was bloody brilliant and everything," he began "But we should really be going to the yard to inform them of their so called idiocy?" Sherlock looked at his partner almost sulkily, "Technically yes, but I never have been one for what some would call 'the proper channels'. And besides, it has just accrued to me that I haven't had more than 12 hours alone with my new fiancé..." he paused sheepishly "and I was hoping to pick up where we left off..." At this, John thought his heart had literally melted, seeing his usually confident, aloof fiancé become shy, timid and almost childlike. He paused for a moment before speaking in order to collect the thoughts that had been scattered, "Alright then," he said at length "Anyway, we're already home." John paid the cabbie and got out, reaching for the detectives hand as he went. "However I have one condition." he said as they entered the flat. Sherlock raised an eyebrow inquisitively, "We are not having another flour fight" with a mock seriousness in his tone.  
As soon as the detective entered the living room of 221b, he promptly planted himself on the sofa pulling a rather startled army doctor down with him as he turned on the telly to watch some mediocre Thursday evening programming. Sherlock resided himself to his habitual position with his head on Johns lap while his partner absently rubbed small circles on his forehead.

After about an hour of sitting, attempting to watch midsummer murders that was continually interrupted by Sherlock, John decided to do something more constructive. Placing a small kiss on the side of the detectives head, he made his way to the kitchen in search of food. As usual it was in vain, the only thing they had in the fridge was a few assorted thumbs in the veg box and eyeballs floating in an old jam jar. "Don't touch the eyes, they are at a critical stage of the experiment." the baritone voice of his lover came from the living room as if he could read Johns mind, he chuckled slightly. _He's good, but not that good_ he thought to himself. "Yes I am." Sherlock replied to his thoughts. John came to the door of the kitchen with a baffled expression on his face, "Now you're just showing off." half a smirk battling its way onto his features. "Of course I am, I'm a show off. It's what we do." self satisfaction clearly visible on the chiselled features of the consulting detective who was now stood in the middle of the room. John closed the gap between them with swift military precision, meeting Sherlock's lips with passion and purpose. A warm tongue probed the Cupid bow lips which parted easily, allowing free roam for a while before the detective started to push back seeking dominance. But John won out this time, grazing his teeth on the lower lip then soothing with his tongue, just the way he knew Sherlock liked.  
They parted eventually, slightly breathless, eyes glistening with lust. "What was that for?" Sherlock asked quizzically "It didn't have to be 'for' anything," John replied "But if you must know, it was to wipe that irksome smirk off your face." he admitted. "In that case I might just have to do that more often." said the detective with a mischievous tone in his voice. "You're insufferable, you know that." kissing Sherlock on the nose and leaning into the embrace of his fiancé.  
Realising their slightly awkward position, being adrift in the middle of the room, Sherlock guided them to the sofa where they settled once again without releasing the hold of one another. By now it was rather late, take out was ordered from Angelo's and eaten from the sofa. The detective stood soon after finishing clearing the plates into the kitchen and upon his return he found John dozing against the cushions. "John," he whispered softly, "John, you need to go to bed." as he gently smoothed the blonde tousled hair, the shorter man came round slightly "Sherlock," he murmured raising his head slightly, "Am in bed already." he said sleepily before falling back onto the pillow. "No, you're not love," Sherlock said slightly amusedly "Come on, time for bed."

With that Sherlock threaded his arm around the sleep slackened torso of his partner, pulling him off the couch, half guiding, half dragging the doctor to his bedroom. They didn't usually sleep in his room; Sherlock had always thought John's bed was better than his own, it always seemed warmer, more comfortable, more John. But he didn't fancy his chances with the stairs tonight. The detective sat John on the expensive sheets and helped him out of his clothes until he was in boxers and a t-shirt then tucked him under the covers. Padding round to the other side of the bed, he removed his shirt, trousers and socks and climbed in to join his fiancé. "Good night John." he said softly, planting a kiss on the back of his head before curling up with his lover.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All rights belong to Moffat and Gatiss... blah blah blah **

**I know that it took a while for this one, but not as long as last time. I am getting better! Enjoy **

Sherlock was roused the next morning by a rather insistent beeping that had invaded his dream, which soon turned out to be Johns alarm going off at 6:45 am. The detective was not amused. There was movement from the other side of the bed meaning the doctor was about to get up, when Sherlock stops him in his tracks. Wrapping every available limb around the shorter man, he pulled him back towards the centre of the bed. "Sherlock what on earth are you doing? Let me go." Jon half heartedly shoved and pulled at the entanglement of limbs in which he found himself, "I have to go to work love." at this Sherlock huffed indignantly and reaffirmed his hold on his lover. "Why?." the detective whined like a child who was having his favourite toy taken from him, "Because one of us has to earn a steady living, and I have already nearly lost the job once." said John with a sigh attempting once again to break out o the hold. "No." the voice said, muffled as it was spoken into his hair, John shifted in his grip so that he was level with Sherlock. "Listen," he began softly as if reassuring a child, "I have to go in today because Sarah let me have yesterday off." the younger man continued his expression of what can only be described as a pout, "Believe me I don't exactly _want_ to go to work, but we.. Well _I_ need the money." Lifting the detectives chin so that he could look him in the eyes, "Look, I'm not even going to be long today. Everyone usually clocks off early on Fridays."

Sherlock's face visibly softened at this as John raised his hand tracing the outline of his jaw with the callused pads of his fingers. By now, the doctor knew that he had done all he could to reason with the genius before him, he leaned forward until their lips were a hairsbreadth away whispering, "I love you." closing the final gap with a sweet kiss, not of goodbye but see you soon. Finally John managed to remove himself from his - rather defeated looking - fiancé and get ready for work. Before leaving, the doctor popped his head round the door to see if his lover was in there. He was, more or less in the same position he had left him in. Thinking he might be asleep, John padded over and planted a light kiss on the detectives forehead, before he could exit the room, a mumble came from across the room, "John?" the older man huffed, thinking he was he ever going to leave today, "Sherlock, what is it." he replied patiently. "Love you." Breathing a sigh of relief John answered, "I love you too Sherlock. Now just try and go back to sleep, I'll be home around half past two."  
John exited the flat at a brisk pace, hoping to get the half past bus to the surgery.

Sherlock lay in bed for exactly another twenty six and a half minutes before deciding that he had to get up before dying of boredom. He showered and dressed in his usual black trousers and fitted shirt before going to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and check on the various experiments which were at different stages in completion. Coffee in hand, he made his way back into the sitting room, collecting his laptop on the way - John had taken his to work - and seated himself on the couch before firing up the machine in order to check his website.  
After discovering that there were no cases of interest and updating his tobacco ash index, he checked the police reports from around London - nothing of interest - and finally John's blog, which he actually found rather interesting, but he would _never_ admit it. As he read through the last few entries detailing their most recent cases with the occasional mention of everyday life around 221b and Sherlock. The detective was, as always, pleasantly surprised and quite honestly flattered at how John portrayed him to the rest of the world. Having read all the most recent content on the blog he closed down his laptop and strode into the kitchen to continue unravelling some cold cases that he had acquired to pass the time.  
Some time later, around 1:00, the detective was roused from his case focused, almost trance like state, at the sound of footfall on the stairs. "Must remember to get those locks changed." he said to himself. "What was that brother dear." the voice of the British government called from the living room. "I said it's polite to knock." Sherlock replied sharply, "Apologies," Mycroft said shrewdly, "knock knock." he appeared in the doorway dressed in his usual three piece suit and umbrella hanging off his arm. "What do you want Mycroft, I'm busy." The elder Holmes remained impassive at his brother's tone. "Alright then, I'll keep it concise seeing as you're... Occupied." he eyed the bomb site that doubled as the kitchen with mild distaste, "It has come to my attention, with no assistance from you I might add, the you and Doctor Watson are engaged."

Sherlock answers without lifting his eyes from the case files, "Yes, what of it?" not that he cared in the slightest what his brother thought on the matter, but only wishing to be left in peace until John came home. "Well, I was merely wondering what your plans were as far as marriage," he began in his annoyingly bureaucratic tone "And more importantly, when are you planning on telling mummy." the younger Holmes inwardly cringed at the thought of telling his mother, she had been planning a wedding for one of her sons - it didn't matter which - since they were 17. "I assume you are inquiring about the wedding, in which case we haven't discussed it yet. For god's sake Mycroft, he only proposed on Wednesday!" the detective's eyes were fixed on a spot before him on the file, glaring at it as he didn't want to give Mycroft the satisfaction. Composing himself, he continued, "And as for mother, how am I to know that you haven't already told her?" Sherlock knew that it was a weak statement before he had even said it, but he /really/ didn't want to face his mother. "You know that I haven't. Why would I deny you and your fiancé the pleasure? Besides, she needed to meet the good doctor at some point." Sherlock's glare intensified, almost as if he could make the spot go up in flames, the smirk was evident on his brothers face even though he couldn't see it. "I was _planning_ on telling her, just later. I wouldn't want to put John through that without some proper instruction." finally he lifted his head after having marshalled his features into place, "Yes that would be the most sensible course of action."  
The detective was rapidly losing patience with his intolerable sibling, "Will that be all brother." he said in mock politeness, "Nearly, just one last point and then you will be rid of me."  
"If only." Sherlock muttered under his breath, ignoring the childish behaviour from the other man Mycroft pressed on, "I was wondering when and if you were going to buy John a ring? I was beginning to think you might have forgotten." the truth of the matter however was far from it; the thought had nearly left his mind since the night of his engagement. "I have not _forgotten_," he spat out the word in distaste, "Haven't found the right ring." he admitted frustrated. "Well you'll find one soon I'm sure." Mycroft replied condescendingly.

"If that is indeed all, please get out. I have important things to do." Sherlock gestured in the general direction of the door turning his eyes back down to the files littered before him on the table. The elder Holmes exited the flat and climbed into his signature sleek black car which pulled away as smoothly as ever.  
Sherlock glanced at his watch, 2:05, John would be home soon. He continued working until he heard the familiar footsteps accenting the stairs. John's day hadn't been too bad, it was naturally busy due to the day of the week, but it seemed that the more 'problem' patients were constantly being referred to him. _Just because I had yesterday off_ he thought to himself, even though he knew that probably wasn't true. He decided to stop off at the shop on the way home, they were defiantly out milk and he knew Sherlock wouldn't have noticed. Even if he did, he wouldn't have thought to have gone to the shop. He sighed to himself thinking, _He is the smartest man on earth, but doesn't have the first clue about getting by day to day_ he chucked to himself thinking about the impossible man he was now engaged to. He passed through the threshold of the flat, hanging up his coat as he went, before making a beeline for the kettle. "Hello love." he said kissing the seated mans forehead as he turned to look at him. Sherlock stood, wrapping his arms around the shorter man as he turned to make tea. "Bit cuddly today," he said with a soft chuckle "what _could_ Mycroft have said to you?"  
Sherlock's mind jolted at the observation from his partner, "You don't have to act so surprised." John said in mock offence, "But I would bet anything that it had to do with our engagement and possibly the wedding." the doctor finished the statement with a large grin on his face, judging by his fiancé's expression he had got it spot on. The detective stood mouth slightly agape, eyes wide in astonishment and confusion. At length he cleared his throat, "He also wanted to know about when we would be informing mother." he said quickly. John's brow furrowed slightly, "_Mother_... There's _always_ something..." he mumbled to himself. Sherlock looked more confused than ever, "How on earth did you get all that?" he asked incredulously. "If you really want to know, I got all that from your left sleeve and the state of your hair." John replied, the grin widening as he followed after Sherlock who had dashed into the living room to see what was so special about his hair. "There's nothing wrong with my hair John, it always looks like this." turning his attention to his sleeve, he muttered "As for this, not even I could..." he faltered, turning his gaze on his lover who was now collapsed on the couch with silent laughter. "Oh very good John, very funny." His laughter from the couch became audible at the sight of a very not amused detective stood in the middle of the room.

"You should have seen your face," the doctor gasped between giggles "it was priceless." he collapsed once more into hysterics. "Yes, yes. I'm sure that my face is highly amusing." the detective said calmly "But come now John, you've had your fun. Just try and calm down." The other man took a few deep breathes but to no avail, he soon began to fall about once more. Sherlock sat next to John on the couch and attempted to reason with him again. "John, you are not a child anymore, do try to control yourself." Needless to say, it didn't work. Sherlock decided to try once more, he leaned over the other man who was gasping for air and nibbled his ear lobe before whispering in a low tone. John abruptly stopped laughing, eyes growing wide as he turned to face the younger man, "Really?" he asked raising an eyebrow. "Really." Sherlock replied in a slightly seductive voice. The detective stood, extending a hand to his partner. John accepted and allowed himself to be lead towards Sherlock's bedroom, muttering something inaudible about if Sherlock even _owned_ a tie...

**I'll just leave you all to your assumptions... Thanks for reading! :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**Greetings readers, sorry for the slight lateness of this one, but it has turned out to be the longest chapter I have EVER written. Just as a heads up, I should be updating once every two weeks or so, give or take a few days, so you shouldn't have such a terrible wait. Also I would like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed so far, you are truly wonderful people, May you live long and prosper :D**

**Disclaimer: As ever I don't lay claim to the origins of the characters/major plot line ECT... **

Chapter 6:

Saturday morning was spent lazily, as all Saturday's should, as John had pointed out. The pair got up at around 2:00pm but still remained in dressing gowns. John had just brought the third round of tea back to the sofa he suddenly remembered a passing subject from the day before. "Sherlock, when _are_ we going to tell your mother about the engagement." the detective nearly choked on his tea, "W-what?" the doctor chuckled "Careful, don't burn yourself." he could practically hear the eye roll. "Is it my fault that you suddenly decided to bring up the obscure conversation topic?" Sherlock said regaining his dignity, "Both Mycroft and I decided that you would need to be fully briefed before meeting her." now it was Johns turn to choke on his tea. "_Briefed_? What do you mean? I'm only planning on meeting the woman, not going on a sec-ops mission over enemy lines."  
"Oh don't exaggerate, but you don't know my mother. She has been desperate for one of her sons to get married for years. So, naturally she has very high standards." the detective said flatly "Are you trying to tell me that your mother won't think me good enough for you?" he tried to keep his voice under control, but he couldn't disguise the expression of hurt and anger that flitted across his features.  
"Oh! No John not at all," Sherlock interjected with a slightly worried expression, "I'm sure that once the two of you have been acquainted then she will absolutely adore you." the doctors face softened slightly at the concern his partner had showed. "I still don't understand why I must be instructed before meeting my future mother in law." Johns mind suddenly dawned on the prospect of being related to the Holmes family, which should be interesting.  
"Think of it this way," the younger man began, "If you could have had prior knowledge of my brother before having met him, would you have taken It." he raised an eyebrow questioningly even though he already knew the answer. "Fair point." The doctor admitted, knowing that he couldn't really argue his way out of this against the consulting detective.  
Sherlock grinned triumphantly, sending a look which said 'I told you so.' Naturally john soon grew tired of the smugness of his partner and resorted to wiping the grin off his face the best way he knew how.

The ex army doctor spent the next five days 'in training', as it had now become known. He awoke at the same time as he always did and left for work. The changes began once he got home. First and foremost he was taken to Oxford Street to find something a little classier to wear to the introduction. After what seemed like an age searching they decided to purchase the first one he had tried on - of about ten others - much to the relief of the now rather harassed looking dressing room attendant. "You knew I was going to end up with this one from the start didn't you?" John said on the cab ride home, the detective merely quirked his lips before continuing to gaze out of the window. "I can't decide if it was more to irk that poor man in the shop or so that you could have your own private fashion show." the doctor said thoughtfully. He glanced at the detective, who was now wearing a large Cheshire cat like grin, "Both then." John concluded.  
The next lesson was basic background in which John learned that Elizabeth Holmes was 70 years old, although she didn't look it, as he was assured. She studied in the most prestigious educational academies in the country throughout her entire academic career, before going to Paris to complete her 8th degree in classical music and composition. It was there that she met her husband, Percival, to whom she was married for a total of 15 years before his death seven years ago. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I had no idea." John gave his partner a concerned look, but Sherlock was being his usual self, "Don't trouble yourself with matters of the past. Besides you weren't to know." the detective gave a small smile in thanks, "Besides, All lives end, all hearts are broken. And in the end, caring is not an advantage." he recited the words as if from memory, as a flicker of nostalgia crossed his face, which was quickly quelled. John glanced at Sherlock, "You don't really believe that, do you?" The brown haired man turned to him, "My father used to say that to me when I was young, I used to believe they were words to live by," a hurt expression flashed across the doctors features, "But that was before you came along." he smiled, wrapping an arm around the shorter mans waist pulling him close. "I can't imagine what it must have been like for you growing up." the doctor spoke into the crook of his lover's neck; he felt the small chuckle rumble through the other mans vocal chords. "I didn't know any different, but I can see how it would have differed from what most might call a 'normal' childhood. But at least you can see where Mycroft gets it from." John smiled, "I had always wondered how someone could have such a large power complex." he joked, both of the laughing in unison. "But I think Greg might be a good influence on him."

Three days of meticulous preparation later, the weekend dawned. John awoke early, running through all of the things he had been taught. After about an hour of tossing and turning and attempting to get back to sleep, he decided that it was for the best to get up. As he carefully extricated himself from the covers, the doctor stole a glance at his partner, who was sound asleep, his long limbs curled slightly into a foetal position and his dark curls spread across the pillow behind him. A smile crept its way onto his tired features as he tiptoed out of their room to make tea to wake him up properly. Glancing at the kitchen clock told him that it was 7:00, he groaned slightly, rubbing his hands across his face. Tea in hand, John settled himself with his laptop and casually browsed the web in order to pass the time and distract him from the impending meeting. _I don't know why I'm so scared_ he thought frustratedly, _she is only his mother, even if she is a Holmes_. He involuntarily chuckled, shaking his hard slightly, _and I'm going to be related to the lot of them_.  
Sherlock woke around 9:00 to be greeted with a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table; he sat up tousling his sleep ruffled curls before taking a sip of the perfectly prepared tea. With a contented sigh, he swung his long legs over the side of the bed and plodded down stairs to the living room. Upon entering, he saw John sat in his armchair, hair still damp from the shower he had recently taken, reading one of his medical journals. "Good morning sleeping beauty." the shorter man said lifting his head from the book. The detective made a face at the name before replying, "Morning, how long have you been up? It's only twenty past nine and I thought you would be all for a lie in."  
"I couldn't sleep and decided that I didn't want to wake you with my fidgeting." he paused yawning slightly, "That was about two hours ago." he yawned once more as if to reinforce the point. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow, "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were nervous about meeting mother." John smirked, "Well it's good that you do know better then isn't it." The detective crossed the room, kneeling in front of the armchair and taking his partners hands before continuing, "You're right, because you will be your usual charming self, and she will fall in love with you almost as much as I have." leaning forward he pressed a chaste kiss to his fiancé's lips. "High functioning sociopath my arse." John said with a grin as they parted, "I was cured by the best doctor I know." the detective replied, mirroring the grin of his partner.

"How long have we got until show time?" the shorter man said pulling Sherlock up as he rose from the chair. "The car is coming at 12:00, so we have about two and a half hours." replied the brown haired man as John made his way to the kitchen, "Breakfast?" he enquired, "Love some." the detective replied, taking a seat at the table. He lazily ate the cornflakes before announcing, "I'm off for a shower, and you could start getting ready if you like." John looked slightly surprised, "It won't take me an hour and a half to get dressed Sherlock." The taller man smirked, "If you say so." he replied already half way to the bathroom. The doctor went into their room towelling his hair dry before smoothing it back into some kind of order with his hand. The suit which they had picked out was hanging on the wardrobe, it consisted of a plain black shirt with white buttons and a charcoal grey jacket and trousers that were all made to measure at Sherlock's insistence. He was just buttoning the jacket and attempting to flatten his hair in the mirror once more when the detective strolled with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. He stopped short of the bed, eyes fixed on his lover, noting how the trousers narrowed in all the right places and the jacket hugged the military physique around the shoulders. The doctor pretended initially that he hadn't noticed his fiancé starring at him, and continued taming his hair before turning to face the gaze, "What do you think?" he said, already knowing the answer. At first, all the taller man could think about was how well the shirt fitted, clinging to the muscular chest of his lover. And why he had never got John in a suit before, "You should wear suits more often." he said finally, smirking fiendishly. He advanced a single, purposeful stride, reaching out for the lapels of the shorter mans jacket. John ducked out of reach, "Oh no, I know what you're thinking. No." he said calmly, backing away while keeping watch on the other man, who was now wearing a predatory grin. "You're not even dressed, and I'm not going to ruin these." he gestured to his new clothes. "I assure you, I have absolutely no intention of ruining anything." Sherlock replied in a low voice, advancing once again. They continued this game of cat and mouse until John had enough and made a break for the door, only to be finally intercepted by the detective who had vaulted the bed to do so. Grasping his lover's shoulders, the shorter man gave a yelp of surprise, "Alright, you've got me," He said slightly breathless, "Now what?" raising an eyebrow, _if you can't beat them, join 'em_ he thought. Sherlock let out a somewhat animalistic growl before ravishing his fiancé.

Forty five minutes later, the pair piled into the prearranged car, already late, hastily adjusting jackets and taming thoroughly dishevelled hair. John caught sight of them in the rear mirror and couldn't help but giggle. "What is it now?" the detective cast an amused look towards the other man. "Look for yourself." the shorter man replied gesturing at the mirror. "Ah." _There it is_ the doctor thought with a chuckle. Half an hour later the car pulled up a large gravel drive leading up to a quite frankly huge house. John swallowed the lump that had recently formed in his throat as he stepped out of the car, followed gracefully by Sherlock. _How does he manage to look flawless all the time? _He thought, feeling slightly self-conscious. "You look fine, stop fussing." the detective soothed the nervous looking man beside him.  
They linked hands and walked calmly towards the already open door, to be greeted by a butler who showed them through to one of the large sitting rooms. John caught himself before a spontaneous expression of awe left his lips. Elizabeth Holmes was sat carefully on the edge of a luxurious leather couch; the air of authority was evident, even when surrounded by the grandeur of the room. Her dark, slightly greying hair fell elegantly about her slender shoulders, it was clear now where the detective had got a large portion of his dashing good looks. Her eyes, a similar colour to Sherlock's, met the couple with a warm smile and she stood as they entered, "Sherlock," she embraced her son, "How lovely to see you." standing back she observed the doctor carefully, but only for a second before bringing him into a hug as well. "So good to finally meet you, Sherlock has barely spoken of anyone else since you met." He hadn't exactly been expecting it, but adapted admirably, returning the embrace politely, while the detective glared daggers at the older woman like a teenager who has been embarrassed by his mother. "Really," the doctor replied, surprised and a little flattered, "There can't have been that much to tell." he finished shyly. "Don't be modest John, you were a war hero." Sherlock said proudly, "Not a _hero_." the shorter man added quickly. "Doctor Watson, you must tell me about yourself properly then." Elizabeth gestured for them to sit beside her. They talked for a while about John and his service - with Sherlock occasionally interrupting to add extra embellishing details - and eventually to how he met Sherlock.  
"I knew from the moment we met that he was something special, but I wasn't entirely clear on what my feelings were until after one of my nightmares." he blushed slightly at the seemingly trivial nature of the event. "There is no need to be embarrassed my dear," Mrs Holmes reassured him kindly, "Post traumatic stress disorder is no laughing matter." the doctor smiled weakly in thanks before continuing his story, "It was a quite a bad one, according to Sherlock, I was thrashing around and crying out. He came up to calm me down so that I didn't injure myself." he decided to leave out the part where he had accidentally punched Sherlock, giving him a black eye, but he couldn't hide the guilt on his face that the elder Holmes would surely have picked up on. "When I woke up the next morning, he was still curled up protectively around me, and it just felt right."

**Once again, Thanks for reading folks! Until we meet again (in about two week's time...)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alrighty then, here's chapter 7 of my story thingamy. I have already managed to exceed the deadline that I informed you all of last time, but there you go, I'm only human. Personally I don't think it went as well as i had hoped, but feel free to prove me wrong. Next one should be better anyway. :D**

**Disclaimer: Hmf... **

The butler reappeared to signal the serving of lunch, which was an elegant selection of both cold and hot sandwiches that were as john had expressed, delicious, in almost every possible variant of the English language. Sherlock excused them both politely, as they retired to his childhood bedroom. On the way, the doctor couldn't help but gaze in awe at his surroundings. His fiancé's room was just as he expected, presented as if he left yesterday, scientific equipment littering every available surface (including some of the floor) and two large bookcases to the left of the bed, in an alcove packed with every known scientific and criminological tome know to man. The doctor breathed a sigh of relief before removing his jacket and settling on the king-size bed. "I don't think that went all too badly." he said in a light hearted tone, "Don't be obtuse John, it was perfect and she loved you." replied the detective who now joined him on the edge of the bed, "Do you really think so, or are you just saying that to cover the horrendous mess I actually made of it." he looked anxiously at his lover, "I have ever seen you this paranoid, and we chase psychotic killers for a living." he threw up his hands in exasperation. "That was different, I have grown accustomed to those kinds of situations thanks to you," he gave the taller man a playful shove, "But I suppose I have never been in a serious relationship when I had to go as far as meeting the parents." he finished lamely, knowing that he was making far too much of a problem out of something actually rather straight forward. "You have to have /some/ faith in yourself John, you were every bit the honourable, noble and chivalrous man that my mother would expect for my future husband." hid eyes never wavered and a small smile crept onto the sharp features of the detective. "Well... If you put it like /that/," John smiled gratefully leaning into the crook of his lover's neck. "What can I say, I'm far from normal." Sherlock planted a soft kiss on the sandy hair at his shoulder, "Who needs normal," the shorter man said, tilting his head, "Normal's boring." He smiled stretching up for a tender kiss.

Half an hour later John decided that he had seen enough of Sherlock's bedroom, even though it was _very_ interesting, and he should probably see more of his fiancés childhood home while he had the chance. So, with the promise they would pick up proceedings later at home, Sherlock lead his lover on the grand tour of the grand house. Of course John knew that the Holmes' were well off, but he couldn't prevent the quite frankly flabbergast expression when he was lead up the spiral staircase into the east _tower_. The brown haired man chuckled lightly while gazing out at the view with which he had come to memorise in ever season from when he was a boy. "Sherlock," the doctor said quizzically, "What's that building over there? Does it belong to the house?" of course Sherlock already knew the structure to which he referred, "Oh, that's the stables." He replied flatly. "Ah, for some reason I always thought you might have ridden at some point." The shorter man said almost reminiscently. "Would you like to take a look?" Before he even knew quite what was happening, he was being lead by the hand out into the sprawling grounds of Holmes manor. The stables were clean and spacious, in the last stall on the left stood probably the most regal beast the doctor had ever laid eyes on. He had a dark ebony coat with a sleek black mane. The plaque at the top of the door read 'Galileo' in a golden sprawling text, it suited the animal somehow, but it was hard to place why. Sherlock released the latch and retreated to the tack room while Galileo obediently walked out and waited for his master. The detective returned with an armful of custom made saddle which he easily fitted over the horse, once tacked up the brown haired man stood beside his mount finally refocusing on his partner who had settled himself casually against a wall. "Come on then," he smiled at the surprised look on the doctor's face, "What... I haven't ridden in _years_, I'll make an absolute fool of myself." The grin grew along with the feeling unease in the doctor's gut; eventually the detective put him out of his misery, "Calm down John, you're riding with me," a brief sigh of relief from the other side of the room, "As much as I have faith in your abilities, not even I am that cruel." With that he mounted swiftly and elegantly hauling the good doctor after him in a much more ungainly manner. They set out at a gentle trot, nut the brown haired man soon tired of that picking up the pace with such a sudden jolt, the shorter man behind him almost tipped backwards, grappling at the slender torso of the detective to keep himself astride the animal. John had to admit, riding with Sherlock was a wonderful experience, the way that such a magnificent beast submitted easily to the precise commands of his lover at a moment's notice. The doctor simply clung to his fiancé taking in the scenic backdrop of the grounds and surrounding countryside that even though it was a stone's throw away from the bustling centre of England, there wasn't a car or commercial building in sight as far as the eye could see.

They rode leisurely until John began to lose feeling in his lower legs and they headed back. He hopped down with all the grace of a drunken giraffe mumbling profanities under his breath, "That was amazing, why didn't you ever tell me about all this before?" he gestured to the stables and the general direction of the house. "You never asked, and I saw no reason to bring it up." Sherlock answered from around the other side of Galileo as he removed the tack. "But you know everything about me and my past, and have done since pretty much the first moment you clapped eyes on me. But I know next to nothing about your past or family or anything." He replied quickly, so as not to allow the detective to change the subject, "Don't be so quick to assume such things John, you knew about my brother when he turned up at the further education collage," he said flippantly, "But until that moment I was informed that he was you're _arch enemy_, the fact that you were related was revealed no thanks to you," the blonde man interrupted, "Alright so I didn't exactly _tell _you about Mycroft but, I told you about the violin and the experiments." He continued swiftly, eager to move on. "This still only proves that I know next to nothing about you," the shorter man was getting increasingly exasperated as the conversation drew on, "I just thought that if I were to marry you then I should at least know _something_ about you." He finished with a serious look at his fiancé. "Ok, you have a convincing argument." The taller man said finally, reappearing from the horse stall, "What would you like to know? But I would also like to remind you that about the history of my parents that you have been informed of." John sent an impatient look before answering, "That isn't the point. Anyway, let's start somewhere easy, Where did you go to school, who were your friends." The last part had left his mouth before he realised what he had said, the detective carried on regardless, "I attended a very prestigious, private boarding school from the age of five to fifteen before my parents got me a place at Oxbridge." By now the doctors eyebrows were threatening to disappear into his hairline, "Oxbridge... at _fifteen_... that's amazing." Sherlock shrugged, "As for friends... I was always different, and all the other boys were only at the school because they had parents in high places," he paused a moment, grimacing slightly at the memories that were being unearthed, "Of course Father paid for the lot of it, but I was always the most intelligent, leagues away from most of my classmates. So naturally the staff allowed me to do as I pleased, and my peers grew to dislike me even more than they already did." The blond haired man sensed the hurt in his partners' tone, "I'm sorry Sherlock, and I didn't mean to bring that up. I was just hoping to know you better." By now he was at the taller mans side in, for want of a better word, moral support. "Don't worry it's natural to be curious about my past, anyway, why would I want to be associated with those people."

They walked slowly back to the house to collect their things before returning to the flat, Of course Elizabeth attempted to protest but there was no changing the detectives mind once it had been made up. "You could stay the night dear, there is no use travelling all that way when it's already so late." She looked more to John with her reasoning, she knew her son too well. "While I appreciate the offer, Mrs... Elizabeth, we really just want to have a good nights' rest tonight." The doctor declined politely as the car pulled onto the gravel drive. "Well I can see that I won't be changing your mind in a hurry Doctor Watson, perhaps next time." The Doctor smiled kindly, "John please, and another time would be lovely. Good bye." The words had barely left his mouth before being manhandled into the newly arrived vehicle. The taller man said his goodbyes briefly over his shoulder before jumping into the car. "Sherlock, what's your hurry?" the doctor was confused by the sudden change in the detective as soon as his mother had extended her offer, "She is your mother, we could have stayed. Then you left me to cover up the escape." the brown haired man relaxed slightly as they left the driveway, "I knew that if we had stayed the interrogation would have begun." he said at length, almost to himself. The doctors brow furrowed further at the obtuse comment, "What /are/ you talking about." Sherlock sighs, turning to meet his partner's eye, "Had we stayed, my mother would have begun prying into our plans for the wedding, that she had no doubt begun planning, and I couldn't face it." John looked at his partner with an uncomprehending expression, "Well," he began still slightly bewildered, "We do have to plan at some point, she may have had some good ideas." the detective huffed, "You don't understand, the moment she gets involved then it will be all banquettes and stately homes. That's not me, not us." his piercing gaze softened to one more tender, "I want the day to be just for us, not trying to please anyone, because they don't matter." with that the doctor finally understood, this man could be romantic when he wanted to be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again dear readers, I've got my act together this time in order to publish this in time :D Hope you like it! Reviews always appreciated. Ta :D **

**Disclaimer: neh : ( **

Chapter 8:

"Bored." the baritone voice of Sherlock Holmes carried through the empty flat. It had been two weeks since the hasty departure from his childhood home, and the great detective was now laid sprawling across the couch in his favourite blue robe in exactly the same position that John left him in. Of course when the doctor left for work, his lover was mid way through babbling about something to do with magnesium and hydrochloric acid, at which point he had decided to leave quickly and apparently unnoticed. In the past fourteen days, Sherlock has managed to solve a large proportion of Scotland Yard's cold case archive along with two on scene jobs which, according to the young genius, were as transparent as Sergeant Donovan's underwear.  
He got a slap for that.  
He got another one when he pointed out that it wasn't the ones she was wearing, but the purple lacy pair that were currently in Anderson's pocket.  
The cab ride home was spent nursing a now glowing cheek and a lecture about how many of the detectives even made it into the police force seeing as none of them could see that it was clearly the brothers, stepfathers, friend's ex-girlfriend. The combination of the conviction of the statement coupled with the outrageous content left the doctor in stitches, much to the confusion of his partner.

Needless to say, the expression was more aimed at the skull on the mantle, not that it would provide a viable source of entertainment. As per usual at the lull between cases, the detective's thoughts began to stray to his partner. John was at work that much he knew. This was a fact that had never failed to irk the great detective; he really was rather possessive, even now that the doctor had promised to spend the rest of his life with him. But that was Sherlock. Glancing at the clock he deduced that John would be on his break by now, so resolved to text him in order to break the boredom. (The genius had memorised John's timetable a while ago when he began to get increasingly agitated at receiving messages in the middle of an examination)

**Bored. -SH******

**I'm working Sherlock -JW******

**No, you're having a tea break -SH******

**The doctor gaze in bewilderment at the reply,****  
****Are you spying on me? -JW****  
**Of course he didn't mean it in a malicious way, it's not like he was talking to Mycroft.

**Don't be obvious John, I glanced at your timetable -SH******

**Glanced, more like memorised -JW****  
**He chuckled to himself slightly before realising the strange looks he was getting from the other staff.

**Come home, the rest of the patients will live -SH******

**I've told you before, I can't just leave work at the drop of a hat because my impossible fiancé needs entertaining -JW******

**Not impossible, just improbable. And it's not my fault that London's criminal classes have elected to be dull -SH******

**Well it's not mine either. Look, I never thought I'd say this but, just do another experiment or something -JW******

**So I could argue that the possibly damaging aftermath of the experiment was in fact your fault seeing as you encouraged the endeavour in the first place? -SH****  
**  
John sighed; he was always difficult when there wasn't much going on as far as cases. Now he was just trying to worry him enough so that he would come home early.

**I'm not giving you permission to blow up the flat, just do something that will entertain yourself until I get back -JW****  
**  
The detective could tell that his attempts to coax his partner from the clinic were futile

**Fine, I'll think of something. Could you pick up the appendices I asked Molly to prepare for me on the way home? -SH******

**If you're so bored why don't you get them yourself -JW******

**But they're all the way over at Bart's -SH****  
**  
The shorter man gave an exasperated huff, running his hand through his short sandy hair. /I hope to god there is a case soon or I'm not going to survive/ he thought to himself.

**Alright I'll get your dismembered body parts, but you owe me -JW******

**Thank you, don't worry I'll be sure to repay you later -SH****  
**  
A smirk played across Sherlock's lip as he sent the message. He knew the other man would catch the drift. Throwing his phone down rather unceremoniously, he stretched out the kinks in his slender limbs that had accumulated from the awkward position he had adopted and headed for the kitchen/lab to begin a new experiment. After around an hour, the young genius had managed to concoct the exact chemicals needed to create a suitable smoke screen, (It was initially for a case but could prove useful at some point), and had resided himself to riffling thought his partners Internet history - as he always did on a monthly basis - there was all the same familiar URL's, he smiled to himself, John really was a creature of habit, until he came across an anomaly. About two days ago there was a site called . Naturally, the detective was intrigued and his curiosity was rewarded with a motorbike auction site. After a few minutes of browsing, it was clear that the doctor couldn't actually afford any of the machines, but that didn't stop him aspiring. Sherlock's lip quirked as an idea began to form; unfortunately it was cut short by a large plume of White-yellow fog drifting out of the kitchen. "Bugger!" the detective cursed aloud before clamping a hand across his mouth and making his way to open every available window.

Thankfully the smoke had dissipated to a lingering mist by the time John got home. Walking up the stairs he could see something was catching the light but he couldn't make out what. As he came level with the living room however all became clear, (or not considering the mist). "Sherlock, what have you done to the flat?" from somewhere in the cloud the voice of his lover sounded, "Technically it was an accident, I wasn't anywhere near the chemicals at the time." the doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, "Chemical... Never mind I don't want to know. I brought the... What appear to be toes, from the morgue?" Sherlock strode across plucking the bag form his partners grip to examine them. "I did ask you not to blow up the flat." the doctor said sternly, "Actually you said that you weren't giving me permission to blow up the flat, and I haven't. Besides, didn't I tell you that any possibly damaging aftermath would be technically your fault?" he replied without looking up from the bag. John hated it when he quoted his own words against him, "I never agreed to that..."  
Sherlock cut him off, "Ah, but you didn't disagree either, and you should learn to be more specific."  
The shorter man sighed irritably, "It doesn't matter anymore, just how much will it cost."  
"Nothing, I said I didn't blow up the flat and I haven't, it is merely a residual mist from a smoke screen I had been working on, it will clear itself in a few hours." the voice came from the kitchen as Sherlock set about whatever he wanted the toes for. Meanwhile John sat in his chair to begin writing up their last case. "You've been on my laptop again haven't you." he frowned in the general direction of the kitchen where his partner was working, "Mine was upstairs." the simple reply came from the mist. The sandy haired man huffed but said no more of it; it was far too much of a common occurrence to be bothered with every time.

Around 8:30 the next morning, the detective's phone rang. He bounded across the living room  
leaving his partner bewildered at the sudden loss of warmth, "Lestrade!" he almost shouted the name down the phone. John could hear the familiar slightly gravelly voice on the end of the phone, they had a case.  
Within minutes of the phone call, they were piling into a cab, Sherlock barking out an address whilst still deep in conversation with Lestrade. From what he could gather, a man had died in his flat and was discovered by one of the neighbours when their post had got mixed up. Nothing unusual, but as usual that didn't last long so the DI called in his favourite consulting detective. Naturally, in his most unnatural manner, the detective was practically ecstatic. Even now the call had ended he was still babbling to himself (aloud of course), much to the cabbie's befuddlement and eventual irritation. Needless to say he was glad to be rid of them when try pulled up outside an expensive looking terraced house covered in police tape.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again readers, slightly late (Sorry :/) but never mind. Hopefully you'll like this one, it was pretty difficult to write but I think the end result was worth it. Enjoy :D **

**Disclaimer: D: **

Chapter 9:

Number seven Chapel Street was clearly the home of someone with money. The roman style pillars that held up the small porch told you that much. It was in a row of four others that were all of a similar style; red brick, at least three stories with neat little window boxes on the ground floor. Oscar Thomson had lived there for the best part of ten years; he owned a small business which he operated from London. He was alone at his time of death, and was discovered by the cleaner who arrived after he should have gone to work. "John, what's your opinion?" the detective gestured at the body in the expensive looking bath. The doctor rolled his eyes and sighed slightly, Sherlock never actually needed his input, and he just enjoyed the growing impatience on Anderson's face. The doctor glanced up and down the corpse, "The victim is young and healthy and there is no record of heart condition so basically he fell asleep in the bath and drowned." he leaned into his partner, "But you already thought of all that," he said in a low tone, "But I think you just like trying to predict what I'm going to say." he glanced up at the brown haired man with a slight scowl. "Ah, but you know how much I like being right." Sherlock replied quietly with a smirk which quickly vanished as Lestrade entered the room. "Got anything?" he enquired, "It clearly wasn't suicide as there would have been more sign of a struggling. Once the water entered the lungs, survival instincts kick in which would have caused water to splash out."  
"Right, anything else?" the DI enquired, "Obviously, but nothing substantial. Haven't got all the evidence. Where are the others?" the policeman stood slightly dumbfounded for a second before recovering, "What do you mean others? I never mentioned-" the brown haired man cut him off, "No you didn't, but you wouldn't called me down here if it was just a man in a bath. So where are the others?" Lestrade collected himself, having know Sherlock for the greater part of five years had taught him to, as they say, 'roll with the punches'. "The nearest one is 32 Tavistock Street, just this side of Waterloo Bridge."

The words had hardly passed the DI's lips when the genius practically launched himself from the house hailing a cab as he went. John was close behind as ever, just making it to the taxi before it sped away. The doctor looked across to his partner; he always looked so alive during a case. It was almost like it lit a flame that radiated throughout his whole being. He mentally noted that even though the case lull was bad for mental health, the young genius had gained some weight that filled out his angular structure. Not too much to change his appearance drastically, but enough to make him appear more healthy.  
In a short while the cab pulled up at their destination. John was dragged out his slight daze by the swirling coat rapidly exiting the taxi; he paid (again) and followed the detective into the building.  
Detective Dimmock was covering this incident and called them through to the location of the body. The corpse had been identified as Una Ramazanov a Russian migrant who moved to this country with her family twenty years ago. She was average height for a woman with dark hair and clear blue eyes. There was one major anomaly in this picture; the woman whom was now laid dead on the sofa of 32 Tavistock Street doesn't actually live here. The actual proprietor of the house is Alisha Banks who upon her return from working nights at the office block down the road discovered Miss Ramazanov on her couch.  
After leaving John to deal with the more than slightly perturbed witness, Sherlock began his assessment of the body. "Hmm... Could be, John!" the detective called his faithful companion over, "What is there something wrong?" giving his partner a quizzical look, "No just, give me a time of death." he stated simply. With a huff the doctor knelt next to the sofa and began inspecting the body, "Time of death around two hours ago, so about 7:30 this morning." he turned to face the detective who had adopted his signature though position, eyes closed, fingers steepled under his chin. "Hm, oh yes. Seven thirty. Good." he opened his eyes a crack to acknowledge the doctor, closing them once more at the end of his sentence. "Wait good? What's good?" the doctor hated having to ask, therefore inviting the comments about his inferior intellect. Not that he was anywhere near the same league as Sherlock when it came to solving cases and general intellect, but he didn't exactly like being reminded of it. His train of thought was cut off by a sudden comment "Seven thirty." Sherlock stated again. John rolled his eyes, 'Did he always have to be this difficult?' he thought to himself. "Yes, got that. What about it?" now it was the detectives turn to roll his eyes, "It's exactly the same as the other one." the detective watched the realisation spread across the other mans features, "Oh, so there's a connection." Sherlock rolled his eyes once more, "Obviously."  
At this point Dimmock decided to come over to sew what the great detective had uncovered. He still wasn't entirely happy with the young genius' involvement with police work but had come to bear his presence at the reassurance of Lestrade. "Right then lads what have we got?"  
"Insufficient data," the brown haired man said almost to himself, "Insufi... What do you mean? Surely it's all here in front of you. You're supposed to be the genius!" the policeman wasn't exactly used to Sherlock and his cryptic statements and bleary though he was being kept in the dark about something. To be honest he probably was.  
With an impatient sigh Sherlock mapped out what was before him and the immediate deductions that could be drawn, which seemed to pacify the Yarder, but John knew that there was something his partner wasn't letting on about and had a pretty good idea what it was.

Sherlock text Lestrade enquiring about a possible third incident he had a hunch about. Within minutes they were back in a cab winding their way back across London to 7 Clifford Street just south of Hyde Park. Upon arrival there was a smattering of Bobbies but nothing major. The pair made their way in easily with a badge Sherlock had swiped from Lestrade.  
Isaac Matthews was thirty four and lead an active lifestyle, as well as an active drinking problem, that much was obvious from when you walked in the door. He was fairly well off but not so much that his problem hadn't left him with any debt. The corpse was in the kitchen slumped against the cabinet island in the centre surrounded by bottles and cans of every alcohol a person could name (apart from maybe Sherlock) which seemed the obvious cause of death. Well obvious until John took another tentative look (the whole thing has unsettled him at the thought of his sister). There was no vomit to be seen on the body, although there was an overpowering smell coming from the sink above his head. And upon further inspection there appeared to be none I the victims mouth, which would have suggested he passed out and chocked on it. He stood back, features heavy with thought until he caught the detective beaming proudly at him from the corner of the room. Thinking of reprimanding his partner for being indecent at a possible crime scene, he went over swiftly to see why the he'll was so funny. "What are you doing?" he whispered urgently, "This is a crime scene and you're stood there grinning like an idiot at a dead body!" the smile went down a notch to one the one that John loved, "I wasn't smiling at the corpse, that would be ridiculous!" he stated as if it were obvious, "I was merely enjoying your thought process from afar when I realised you had got it right. I'm being happy for you John." the doctor guessed that came out more condescending than it was meant to, but when you removed the tone, it was probably the biggest compliment that Sherlock Holmes was capable of giving.  
"Oh, ok then. Thanks I suppose..." john replied slightly befuddled. "So if the drink didn't kill him then what did?" he said aloud regaining himself a little. Of course he didn't receive an answer as such but a small acknowledged grunt left the man beside him.

They didn't spend much longer at the scene after Anderson and the official forensics team arrived. But apparently Sherlock had collected the necessary data along with a few inconspicuous samples to analyse at a later date. The detective bustled his partner out the door after briefly answering some of Lestrades questions and deflecting others. It was gone two o'clock when they finally entered the flat having taken a supposedly brief detour to the morgue which ended up being more like a couple of hours. John was exhausted, it hadn't really been that strenuous compared to other cases, but he presumed that during the gap he had been allowed to relax too much. As ever the great detective was not to be weighed down by such bodily complaints and was currently furiously pacing the living room giving an occasional glance to the large annotated map of central London which had been hastily stuck to the wall with assorted kitchen utensils. There were pins at the address of each corpse and attached files about the scene and respective victim. Just as John had made tea and settled himself, Sherlock interrupted him; "Could you get my violin?" he stated rather than asked without even a pause in his pace. The doctor was about to retort when he was once again cut off, "It's in the bedroom." he added. The shorter man huffed in annoyance but began to rise from his chair all the same.  
He ascended the stairs making sure to make his footfalls heavy in a rather juvenile attempt to throw his partners concentration. He knew it was childish, 'But I'm dealing with a child." he added in his mind. Their room was still a mess from that morning with neither having time to make the bed, Sherlock's violin was propped carefully against the back of the desk chair in the corner of the room. Spying it, the doctor made his way over grabbing the bow from the foot of the bed as he went. Halfway across the room something caught his peripheral vision. There on the wall, just above the headboard was a yellow smiley face.  
John's blood ran cold; his eyes scanned the room in panic waiting for an attacker that would never come. "Sherlock!" he bellowed knowing that the detective would sense the tone and come to investigate. Sure enough the taller man came swiftly bounding up the stairs, "What's wrong?" he said quickly eyes wide with panic. "It appears we've had a visitor."


	10. Chapter 10

**Evening all, even if it's not evening where you are. Continuation from the cliff hanger I'm sure you'll be glad to know. Hoping you like it :D **

**P.s Hey guys double digits! Honestly never thought I would get this far, thank you for staying with me for some of the more terrible chapters. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own **

Chapter 10:

The yellow face stared down at them almost menacingly for an inanimate painting. For a moment it was as though time stood still as both men took in the scene before them, Sherlock broke the silence first, jumping onto the bed in order to get a closer look at the offending article. As he stood, nose almost to the wall, John could have sworn he heard the hard drive buzzing and whirring furiously, processing the new data while attempting to connect it with existing files. The doctor meanwhile was still stood, feet slightly apart so as to even out his weight, and fists clenched more out of anger now than anticipation of attack. He was disgusted that a man like that had been in this room, their room. The place John felt safe. He had defiled it. The shorter man couldn't even bring himself to say the name, though he knew exactly who it was. Admitting the name would somehow make it more real; confirm an event that should never have happened. Suddenly he felt white hot terror course through his veins, if he could get in here now, what was to say he wouldn't do it again. But this time he would do more damage. Horrific images flooded Johns mind, all of them were either Sherlock injured, dying or dead. And there was nothing he could do about it.  
At some point in his partner's emotional turmoil, Sherlock had jumped down from the bed and was by his side. The doctor broke from his trance when he felt the strong, slender arms of his lover wrap tightly around him. He felt all the tension release from his body as he melted into the embrace. "It's alright John, he's not here." the detective spoke softly into his lover's ear, "I'm alright and so are you my love. I promise I won't let anything happen to you or to us" he was now Almost having to support the whole of the other mans weight as he went limp in his arms. The detective lowered them both onto the bed so that John could lean into him without too much effort. Almost as suddenly as it had started, the trance like state of the doctors mind was broken, he sat up suddenly, making the detective jump slightly, before wrapping his arms protectively around the skinny man. "If he lays a finger on you, he won't live long enough to regret it." John grumbled the words against the detectives head, "But you have to promise me something." he said suddenly leaning back to catch the detectives gaze, "Whatever twisted game He's playing, and no matter how much you want to solve it all by yourself. I'm coming with you, wherever there might be evidence or a potential lead, it doesn't matter how insignificant it might be. I won't let him take you away from me." Sherlock felt a swell of pride in his heart, the fact that the man in front of him could still surprise him even now after almost four years. Which until now he could have never thought possible. "I promise." the detective replied, and he meant it, not only for Johns sake but for his own. There was no way that he could leave his partner open to attack from this madman, Sherlock would never forgive himself if something happened to his doctor.

They separated and Sherlock threw himself down the stairs as fast as humanly possible while remaining on two feet, sort of, and immediately plotted another point on his ever growing diagram, this time on Baker Street. "He planted those murders so that he would know for sure that we would be out of the flat long enough for his people to come in here and paint the message. But nothing else appears to have moved, nothing was taken or destroyed. It's a warning." the detective was pacing once more reeling off deductions as they popped into his head Suddenly he made a scrambled dash over to the map and began scribbling frantic lines across it. The doctor looked on, attempting to keep up with his partner, and doing so admirably until he realised what the sleuth was drawing. All the points on the map were now joined in a triangular like formation. "Right, it's a delta." the genius said aloud before lapsing into mutterings about possible meanings or connections. After a few moments of contemplation the taller man turned to his partner, "Theories?" he asked simply John knew that his ideas would be nowhere near the same level of complexity as Sherlock's but always endeavoured to help the detective out of a rut. "Well to me it looks like an arrow, of which the point is on Baker street." he said gesturing to the point on the wall. There was a breath of silence during which the younger man weighed up the viability of the point. "Oh, that's simple." he said, "but clever." he added quickly, "Oh it is clever, is it clever? Why is it clever?" the words came out in a rush and left the detective in his habitual position, finger steepled under his chin staring at the map as if it was going to tell him the answer. To John the only further deduction that could be pulled from the map was that it was clearly a warning, but it wasn't going to be that simple, because that would ruin the game. Eventually Sherlock halted suddenly, "We need to go to Bart's" he said making for the door before John headed his off, "Wait, why?" the detective huffed "Because I need to have another look at the victims while they are together, cause of death could be key to unravelling this." The doctor simply sighed and defended the stairs ahead of Sherlock to pick up his coat and hail a cab.

Bart's was predictably quiet for gone six o'clock on a week night. John had hardly noticed the time until his stomach gave a violent grumble on the way to the morgue, between flitting between crime scenes across London to the surprise left for them at the flat he bad barely had time to have a cup of tea let alone anything as normal as breakfast. His stomach rumbled again, "Could you stop that it is rather distracting." the detective chimed from beside him as they entered the labs, "It's not my fault I haven't eaten in almost 24 hours," he said tersely "Unlike you I cannot ignore the needs of 'transport'." the detective smiled slightly at the use of his own language against him, John was learning. "Luckily I have dinner taken care of." the detective replied, plucking two packets of quavers from his cavernous pockets and throwing them to his partner. On instinct john caught them, rolling his eyes but still thankful for the sustenance, even if it was only crisps. Upon entering the lab, the taller man produced various samples that he had collected from the scenes from further pockets to begin testing.  
Two hours and numerous tests and experiments later, the detective jumpers from his lab stool holding a microscope slide aloft, much like the opening scene of the Lion King, john noted to himself surprising the urge to snigger at the reference that would no doubt go straight over the detectives head. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed triumphantly, "Jatropha curcas! It's so simple its brilliant." the doctor simply shot a confused look towards his partner at the use of Latin terminology, "It's a naturally occurring toxin that appears in castor nuts," the genius elaborated, "It normally only has the capability of causing severe abdominal pain and horrific sickness when the nut is consumed raw. But in a concentrated dose, about 0.035 grams to be exact it is fatal in two to five minutes or so." As per usual the doctor was wearing an expression of utter disbelief and amazement, "But how did he get them to take it?" John asked finally. "Ah, well that's the clever part. All of the victims consumed them orally via a tablet or pill. Isaac Mathews was on prescribed drugs for his liver problems, drinking obviously. Thompson was a young fitness conscious individual who would have taken several vitamins a day, and from what I can gather Miss Ramazanov was an addict, just starting out, and had broken in to the house looking for items to sell for money to feed the supply and had obviously taken a pill, supposedly ecstasy or something like it before entering the house and passed out on the sofa." John followed as well as anyone could with the tale, "So he must have told her, via someone else most likely, to lift some stuff from Alisha Banks' house so that there would be a body there to find." he said aloud, concluding his train of thought.  
"Exactly, they all died at almost exactly the same time because the poison only takes a few minutes to affect them." the sleuth continued to think aloud, "Prescriptions for that kind of condition can only be taken once every nine hours so he will have only just take his morning tablet, Thompson will have taken his morning vitamins before bathing and going to work," he cut off to mumbling to himself while still gesticulating slightly.

A few moments later the detective turned back to his partner with furrowed brows. "The question is not how he did it but why?" John thought aloud in an attempt to restart the younger mans train of thought. Sherlock raised his eyebrows in a silent gesture for the doctor to continue. "Why now? We haven't seen hide or hair of the slimy git for months and now all this. It doesn't make any sense." 'Not to me at least' he added silently to himself. "It was too easy," the doctor exclaimed suddenly, "I mean he only used a naturally occurring toxin that the police would take a while to uncover while you would find it straight away." a small smile crept intoning younger man's face as the doctor continued his outburst, "He could have use any number of highly advanced and completely untraceable chemicals that are no doubt at his disposal, but he used this anyway. It's just complex enough to pique your interest while simple enough for the game to move on swiftly." Sherlock's grin grew steadily as he watched his partner puzzle it out, "Which obviously means that it's his move, and it will probably come soon." the shorter man finished looking at his partner properly for the first time since his deductions began. "Brilliant." the detective said almost without thinking, John beamed back at the unusual reversal of the exchange.

**A/N: Just to say that****Jatropha curcas is actually the Latin name for the tree which the nut is from, in case you either knew or wanted to know. Thanks for reading x **


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